Angstville
by diarrhetic.pen
Summary: A collection of drabbles centered on the supporting manga characters.  'Cause everybody's got to take a turn down that unpleasant road eventually...
1. Chapter 1

**Angstville**

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_First Avenue_

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He knew she was different from the first time he saw her.

So he watched. Watched how she brought the best and the worst out of people.

And then he felt the pull. He dismissed it at first as a passing interest, a fleeting fancy. She was, after all, quite the standout personality.

And he kept on watching. Before he realized it, he wasn't just watching anymore. He was becoming more and more involved in her life. He supposed she had that effect on everybody. She sucked everybody into her orbit without even trying.

But she was something he couldn't have. Wouldn't even dream of having. Perhaps at some point in time, early into knowing her, he might have deluded himself that there was actually a chance. That she might look his way, and really see him. Not as some acquaintance from work, but as himself.

But then somebody else had staked his claim on her. Not that she knew of course. But this was someone he couldn't think of even rivaling. He was every woman's dream.

Then again she wasn't just any woman. So for a very short while, he allowed himself the luxury of his illusions.

But he knew it wouldn't last. The other man never really did admit it. But he saw it from the get go. Sometimes he cursed the fact that he was very perceptive. What he would give to be oblivious to everything but himself.

He saw everything, and he felt like breaking. But he couldn't pull away. He watched with an almost morbid fascination the events unfolding around her.

He would tell himself that he would never pursue her because he never had a chance from the start. But he knew this was just partly true. Most of it was because the rival would be someone he held dear.

So Yashiro watched. And pretended. Pretended that he didn't feel the crushing weight on his chest every time he caught the two of them sharing a rare tender moment. That he didn't feel like biting his tongue whenever he teased his charge. That he didn't feel like running away whenever he saw the two of them alone in Ren's apartment, innocent as everything was.

He would continue pushing the two of them together. Because this was the only way he could be part of both of their lives. He always believed that everyone had their respective destined roles in life. And he knew, even if fate had dealt him a painful card, he would embrace it. Because for him, there was no other way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Angstville**

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_Second Avenue_

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There he goes again. Does he really think he wouldn't be noticed by anybody? The more he hides it, the more he appears so obvious. Then again, nobody's paid attention to him the way I have.

_Five… four… three…_ Ah, this time it didn't even take him five seconds to sneak another glimpse of her. This is really getting annoying now. It wasn't even as much as the frequency of his stolen glances, but the way he looks when he does it. He probably doesn't realize it himself, but his eyes broadcasted every single emotional nuance he was going through in that short span of time. The turmoil. The longing. The confusion. The denial. Regret.

He sees her differently in comparison to me. To him, she is a woman. Granted, he didn't see her that way until a few hours ago, but once he realized that she wasn't the same girl he knew way back God-knows-when, he was a changed man. He could spout denials all he wants, but I could definitely see them for what they were. Lies.

There was no turning back now. I suppose he would be hard-pressed to shake that image of hers out of his mind for days. Weeks even. She had looked beautiful when she stepped out. Totally different from how she looked usually. I could tell myself that it was because of the make-up, but then I'd be doing what Sho has been doing the whole day now. The pot can't hate on the kettle for being black.

To him, she is a woman. But he sees me as a child. Treats me like one too.

You're cute. _But you're not beautiful._

You look just like my type. _But somehow I can't take my eyes off somebody else._

She's just a stranger to me. _A stranger I had known a lifetime ago._

I could almost hear what he's thinking. Could clearly see the cogs working overtime in that head of his as he looked at me, and then at her.

_Little doggy._ I used to think I was special whenever he called me this. It was his cute little endearment for me. But the way he whispers her name… _Kyoko_. Reverently. Almost like a prayer. What I'd give for him to say my name like that.

I hate how her every action commands his attention. I was the one he was supposed to be acting in-love with. It makes me so… _mad_. Mad enough to try to get her kicked-off the video. Lot of good that did. The only thing I managed to do was delay the shoot, and hear more about their relationship from Sho, which irritated me even more. Like adding fuel to the already raging fire.

But what bothers me the most is that I couldn't hate _her_. I wouldn't go as far as being all friendly with her, but try as I might, I couldn't convince myself that she wasn't the angel she appeared to be. I knew she was just acting. We both were. But there was something behind those eyes when she looked at me, and not just when the cameras were rolling. A hint of sadness? Pity?

I should be offended but I'm not. I suppose it's true. I should be pitied, but I don't know why she gives me that look every time I'm with Sho. She certainly doesn't know how Sho feels for her. Even Sho doesn't know his own feelings. I really don't understand.

I don't understand her. I don't understand him. Most of all, I don't understand that bond they have. She says it was nothing special. They just grew up together. But why does he say the things he says? That he "knew her perfectly well". That he didn't know that "it was wrong to be so close to the girl who understood him the most".

Sho acts like he owns her. She acts like his long-suffering lover. They argue like an old married couple. How infuriating. How… _enviable_.

They're shooting the final scene now. She's crying, and it visibly upsets him. Kyoko's acting. Sho is not. I stand up to take a better look, and as I do so, he falls from the tower. It hadn't even taken him a minute to hit the safety mats below, but it had felt like an eternity to me. Like that particular scene alone was captured in excruciatingly slow motion. Not once did he blink as he fell. And not once did he take his eyes off her.

I hear the director frustratingly call for a reshoot of the scene. I hear somebody ask why. It had looked fine. Better than that even. But I knew what went wrong even before she answered. It was because the devil had looked at the murderous angel as if he was in love with _her_.

I say goodbye to Sho at the end of the day. He sighs. He had been expecting somebody else.

_Little doggy._ The endearment feels like a burden now. A constant reminder of what I really am to him. A mutt that he pays attention to because it demands his attention. Someone he showers with the affection that he couldn't give to a particular girl.

I ask for proof that what I'm thinking is wrong. I demand a kiss, which he unthinkingly agrees to give. I change my mind and I throw a fit, and it frustrates him a great deal. He embraces me and says my name. _Mimori._ Not the way he says her name, but close enough. I know it's just a ploy to calm and distract me, but I accept it because it is all he could give at the moment. I'll give Kyoko this victory today. She has won the battle, but she hasn't won the war.

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_And now I give you, Mimori-centered angst. I think I'll do a fic for each of the side characters. Yashiro was first, and now I've done Mimori. Wonder who I'll write about next? Definitely not Ren or Kyoko. They're the main pair in the manga so I expect they'll get enough screentime… er… paneltime to satisfy all of us. Sho/Kyoko shippers, don't hate me. We all know it's true._

_Skip Beat isn't mine. Otherwise, you wouldn't be reading my stories here._

_One more thing, is there something wrong with the review button? BECAUSE THE FIRST DRABBLE HAS HAD MORE THAN A HUNDRED HITS AND ALL I GOT WAS ONE MEASLY REVIEW!_

_Now that we've gotten that out of the way, please enjoy and look forward to the next ones._


	3. Chapter 3

**Angstville**

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_Third Avenue_

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She had appeared in our lives like a streak of lightning during a warm summer's day. Sudden and totally unexpected.

My wife had brought her in like one would a homeless kitten. Speaking to her with a soft soothing voice, gesturing around our place slowly and deliberately, as though any sudden movements might scare the child away. That was what Kyoko was. A child. Her innocent eyes readily awed by her new surroundings.

My wife had been easily charmed. I wasn't. Not that I didn't like her. It was just one of those things. Perhaps it was her youth. So much like those teenagers outside who ambled aimlessly day after day. Or maybe it was the way my spouse looked at her. Like she was the long-awaited answer to her oft-repeated prayers.

Whatever it was that made me unsure of her, it was certainly serious enough to take a significant amount of pleading from my wife for me to give her a chance. But, it hadn't been her words that convinced me. It was the look in the girl's eyes. The flash of determination in those golden orbs spoke more volumes than any begging could do.

And give her a chance I did. And I never regretted it.

It's been more than a year since then, but time really is subjective. She hasn't been with us that long for us to know much about her life beyond the little snippets she throws our way whenever my wife asks. Or during the rare times she's unguarded. But her time with us has been long enough that we've seen her through some of the biggest changes in her life.

When she moved into the room above our restaurant, I'd been surprised at the absence of the brilliant spark in her eyes that so characterized her. I had wanted to ask, but ultimately, I didn't. It wasn't my place.

Shortly after then, she'd come home with her beautiful long hair chopped off, dyed the color of fresh satsumas. She'd looked like any one of those flashy teenaged girls that so populated the city. I looked, no _glared_, at her in disapproval. But try as I might, I couldn't voice out any of my opinions. I was merely the taisho of the restaurant. The man whom she works for.

I got used to it as time went by. The same way I got used to her strange quirks. I was only glad that the changes she'd gone through were mostly superficial. The Kyoko Mogami we had initially known was still there.

Sometimes she talks about her life before in Kyoto. Not much, but there are times when she lets slip a few generous glimpses into her past. About the family she lived with. The couple that took care of her. She talks about them fondly, but mostly the emotion is wrought of gratitude rather than any real affection. How they had taught her to become a respectable lady. How they'd shared with her the ins and outs of their family business. How they'd let her play with their only son.

She never says anything more than that. It suddenly occurs to me that she's never mentioned anybody else other than the family that owned the ryokan. She never talks about her own. Never mentions any friends.

And, despite living with them through most of her childhood, she never includes herself when referring to them. It was always _their family_ or _their family and I_. No _we_. No _us_.

She talks of them like an outsider would. Like one would of a generous employer. Or even of a kind teacher. It pains me to think that she might see me and my wife in the same way.

_Do I think of her as a daughter? _Perhaps. I have no way of knowing. I've never had a child of my own. _Does she see me as a father? My wife and I as parents?_ Maybe. Then again, I guess the honest answer should be no.

She tries not to show it, but she seems almost scared of people being too close. Like a puppy that's been hit too many times by its owner.

There's something about her that keeps people at a certain distance. It's never really that obvious. I only see it because I've made a habit of watching and listening.

Nevertheless, this doesn't stop people from caring about her. From wanting to be with her. To be a part of her life.

I watch my wife pick a gift for her. She's waited and saved for a chance to splurge on the child. My eyes stray instead to a new knife set. Kyoko's always been good with cutlery.

I bend to pick one up, but a familiar hand rests on my arm to stay it. I glance beside me and look questioningly at once-youthful eyes now lined with age. Eyes that glittered with excitement as a pair of expensive-looking leather shoes were thrust before me.

I ask her why, when there are more practical things we could choose, and suddenly, her eyes become wistful, almost sad.

"I may not be what she wants as a mother," she whispers. _Ah_, _so she's noticed as well. _

"But," she continues, "I can be the fairy godmother she longs for." She smiles again, and this time I'm reminded of that moment years ago, when our new life had just started. Of our dreams together. Of white picket fences and tiny little children. How it had held so much promise.

She places the shoes back into their box, and as I turn around, I almost miss it when she adds softly, "And what kind of fairy godmother am I if I couldn't give Cinderella her magic slippers?"

I laugh out loud and my wife stares at me in surprise. I take the box from her and head to the counter. Yes, Kyoko is every bit our Cinderella. And someday, we might be able to help her have her happily ever after.

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_Feels weird writing again. Cheers to piggycat350. And to the epic fail that was November._

_Apologies for the subpar writing. Still trying to get my bearings. If all else fails, I'll try to buy it online._


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